


By The Sword

by ferix79



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Anal Sex, And for descriptions of blood/injury, Coming Untouched, Complicated Emotions, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, FFXV kinkmeme, Foursome - M/M/M/M, Gladio Worship, Head Rubs, Hurt/Comfort, Ignis cares a lot, Kink Meme, Multi, Oral Sex, Protectiveness, Recovery, Supportive Partners, TW for depression/under eating/general sadness, bottom!gladio, top!prompto
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-04-26
Packaged: 2018-10-24 07:36:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10737108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ferix79/pseuds/ferix79
Summary: So he was the Shield of the King and he protected Noctis, but somewhere along the way Ignis and Prompto migrated into the overlapping headspace of 'people I love' and 'people I will die for' that was supposed to be reserved for only Noctis.What finally did trigger him was no surprise, though. Regardless of what position Prompto and Ignis took in his mind, Noctis always had been and always would be his first priority. So when not only he, but all three of them failed to protect Noct, Gladio reached a new level of helplessness.Please see the tags for potential triggers.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Whew, writing this fic was an emotional rollercoaster, but I really enjoyed it. I hope you do, too. 
> 
> The title comes from [Hebrews 11:40 by the Mountain Goats.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oM-EbBfAidQ) I think that's a really good song for what Gladio's going through here.
> 
> [Kink Meme Prompt](http://ffxv-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/3016.html?thread=2526408#cmt2526408)

 

Gladio went and bested the Blademaster and got a badass new scar and a badass new sword and everything. And it still wasn't enough.

He was the shield. He protected his charge just like his father protected his King, and now _he_ was the Shield of the King because his father had done such a good job at his role that he'd actually fulfilled it. Despite their purpose of protecting the king, a surprisingly few amount of Amicitas ever died for Caelums. Circumstances always seemed to get in the way.

But Clarus Amicitia did. And now the mantle fell to him.

So he was the Shield of the King and he protected Noctis, but somewhere along the way Ignis and Prompto migrated into the overlapping headspace of _'people I love'_ and _'people I would die for'_ that was supposed to be reserved for only Noctis. He’d like to lie to himself and say he hadn’t noticed it happening, but it would be the biggest lie he’d ever told.

He knew exactly when it happened, he remembered the specific moments for both of them. For Ignis it was when he threw himself over top of Noctis to protect him from a Zu’s gigantic claws. Claws that were as big as his leg and could have ripped Ignis apart in one swipe, but the advisor put himself between Noct and those claws and in that moment Gladio knew. If Ignis was willing to die for Noctis, if he had _physical proof_ , then Gladio would protect him, too.

For Prompto he started feeling it when they descended into the Balouve Mines. The boy was shaking and on the verge of a breakdown but he still kept going, even as they were forced to wade through muddy, tepid water and goblins threw mine carts at them. Once faced with that devilish Aramusha, though, Prompto didn’t hesitate for a second. When he saw it winding up he pushed Noctis out of the way and received a sword through the stomach for his troubles. They almost lost Prompto that day, and Gladio shuddered at the thought. As the boy lied there, bleeding out on the floor of the mine, Ignis pouring a high elixir into his stomach and Gladio restraining his hands, Gladio knew.

So now it hurt three times as much. It wasn’t just when Noctis was picked up by a dualhorn and thrown clear across the battlefield. It wasn’t just when a coerl electrocuted Prompto into such a stupor that he couldn’t move his hands. It wasn’t just when Ignis got so poisoned that he couldn’t keep anything down for three days. It was all of those times. All of those times and every time one of them came out of a battle with more than just a bruise.

Every time he had to drop down next to one of them in the heat of battle, an elixir or antidote or phoenix down at the ready, his mind descended into a never ending mantra of I could have I could have I could have I could have I could—

(He could have gotten there sooner. He could have swung his sword faster. He could have not miscalculated that step. He could have not underestimated that monster. He could have done _better.)_

Why did it have to happen? He loved them so much. Why wasn't love enough? Wasn’t that what you learned as a kid, that love conquered all? Why wasn't his love strong enough to protect them?

He would like to think he’s strong, that standing there and watching his comrades, his brothers, the _loves of his life_ get mutilated didn’t affect him, but again, he’d be lying. But he has to be strong for them, so, for the most part, he kept it to himself and only cried when it really got to him. Only cried in the shower or when they rented a camper and he got a bed to himself. He’d seen Prompto break down before, into tears and shakes and incomprehensible babble, and promised himself he’d never have it that bad. Not that he thought Prompto weak—quite the opposite. It was just that if he ever got started with that sort of thing, he wouldn’t be able to stop.  

What finally did trigger him was no surprise, though. Regardless of what position Prompto and Ignis took in his mind, Noctis always had been and always would be his first priority. So when not only he, but all _three_ of them failed to protect Noct, Gladio reached a new level of helplessness.

(He recalled reading the medical chart at the end of the bed. Fractured skull, dislocated shoulder, some level of concussion that couldn’t be fully assessed because he was in a coma for a _week._ ) 

Noctis was nothing if not resilient, though, and the boys didn’t doubt that the crystal helped him recover, even from thousands of miles away. The doctors released him after only a few weeks due to his ‘miraculous’ recovery, but being back on the road and back to normal would never erase the memory of seeing Noctis, eyes wide open in unblinking horror, lying on the ground in a puddle of his own blood, his head cracked open and his arm sitting at an angle that shouldn’t have been possible.

So, roughly a week after Noctis was out of the hospital, on a day like any other, Gladio slept in. He slept through Ignis making coffee and through Prompto stumbling out of his sleeping bag and tripping over his own shoes. He even slept longer than Noctis, who woke up and thought it quite odd that Gladio was still asleep, facing away from him. The last time Gladio slept later than him was...never? Maybe he was sick?

Like any other morning Noctis sat up, pushed aside the top layer of his sleeping bag and stretched his arms up over his head. “Good morning, big guy,” he said, crawling over to shake Gladio's shoulder, “what's kept you in so...late…”

As he peered over into Gladio's face he did not find the man sleeping peacefully. Instead, those familiar, beautiful amber eyes were cracked open as he stared, slack-jawed, into the tent wall. Tears were leaking down his face and soaking into his pillow. 

“Gladio,” Noctis laid a hand on his shoulder, even though it was obvious the other man was already awake. He got no response. “Gladio, what's wrong?” he tried again, distant sirens starting to wail in his head. Something was wrong; Noctis didn't know what, but something was terribly wrong on this, a morning like any other. 

“I'll be right back,” he reassured Gladio, though he wasn't sure he was actually hearing anything Noctis said. Again, no response. 

Noctis pulled on his boots and scrambled out of the tent in naught but his boxers and a tank top. Outside Ignis and Prompto were enjoying mugs of coffee while ham and biscuits sizzled on the grill.

“Ignis!” he called, his mind slipping back to his younger days when he'd call out to his chamberlain  whenever something felt so insurmountable that he’d need a friend by his side, “Something's wrong with Gladio. He won't get out of bed.”

Saying it out loud sounded a bit silly, and his other two partners snorted at the sentiment. “What, does he want a kiss to get out of bed?” Prompto taunted, putting a hand on his hip, but Noctis did not falter.

“Prompto, I’m not joking,” he said, and it came out rather harsh, but he didn’t care. It got Prompto and Ignis’ smiles to drop right off their faces, so it was worth it. He moved closer to them, spoke quieter, hoping Gladio wasn’t upset by their bickering. “Something’s really wrong with him, guys. He’s just laying there,” he said, then hesitated, because the next part didn’t sound anything like Gladio, “and he’s crying.”

“Do you know why?” Ignis asked shooting him a calculating glance as he set down his coffee mug and moved to turn off the grill.

Noctis fidgeted, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “I...I don’t know,” he admitted.

Ignis hummed in contemplation, putting a finger to his chin as he thought, but then waved off whatever theory had been developing in his mind. “It’s no matter. Let’s see what we can do.”

Upon entering the tent they found Gladio in the same place Noctis left him, but worse. He was shaking, trembling as if under some immense weight. Ignis wasted no time in taking a knee next to the man and placing a hand on his shoulder, but went no further. He paused, waiting for Gladio to get used to his presence, before he spoke.

“Gladio,” he spoke clear and slow, trying to muster up his most tender tone, “are you alright?”

It was a silly question, he knew, but hopefully one that would lead into a much more enlightening conversation. Ignis’ voice did the trick and Gladio rolled over with the grace of a rusty doorknob that hadn’t been turned in years. His eyes were rimmed with red and puffy from tears, and Ignis felt a lot of his confidence about this being a minor issue run down the drain.

“I…” Gladio winced at his own voice, raspy and cracking, “…no. I’m not.” He paused, his eyes darting all over the tent. Meanwhile his three partners waited on edge, desperately wanting to know what behemoth had upset Gladio so they could go and slay it, as if it could be resolved so easily.

“I haven’t been okay since we learned the city was attacked,” he said, and that threw Noctis for a loop, because he knew the feeling, but Insomnia fell almost _two months ago_ , “I haven’t been okay since I lost my dad.” Gladio’s voice was wavering and he _hated_ the sound of it. “I-Ignis, by the astrals…I’m so _scared_.” He shook his head, sniffling as he covered his eyes with a hand, “I feel so empty. Why does everything hurt so much?”

Ignis, for one of the few times in his life, could not find the words to comfort his partner. But that was no excuse to say nothing. Gladio was obviously having a bit of an episode, though to what extent Ignis couldn’t say. Think, Ignis, think…he had to be firm, so he could perhaps prevent Gladio from slipping further into this depression, but also understanding, so Gladio could keep venting these insecurities if he needed to.

“Gladio,” he addressed him, and Gladio let his hand slide off his face to look at Ignis, “It’s okay if you don’t want to leave the tent,” he paused, trying to pick his words carefully, “But I need you to tell me what you need, to the best of your ability. Even if it’s something simple.”

Gladio exhaled, letting out a little moan as he deflated back into his thin camping pad. Good, Ignis thought. The question was simple enough to understand, but stunned him into thinking about his immediate needs rather than his jumbled emotions.

“Can…can Noctis come sit next to me?” he asked, his watering eyes hiding no emotion. It made Ignis’ chest ache—through all his pain and sorrow, all he wanted was for his prince, his love, to come sit and be close to him.

“Of course,” Ignis forced out, and behind him Noctis had already discarded his boots in the corner. He shuffled around the other two and settled near Gladio’s chest. Gladio wrapped his arms around Noctis’ waist like he never wanted to let go. He even pulled him closer, eliciting a squeak that Noct would surely deny, and nuzzled into his partner’s side, nosing aside Noct’s tank top to press his face into warm, soft skin.

Prompto moved next, gathering up the other pillows strewn around the tent. Pillows were wedged behind Gladio’s back and between his legs as Prompto built up a veritable nest of comfort and warmth around his lovers. He hoped Gladio wouldn’t be too warm…but if he were in the same position, it would have been what he wanted. _Love_ and _safe_ and _together_ and all those feelings that made his anxiety not as miserable to deal with.

Gladio wasn’t sure Prompto caught the look he shot him, eyes full of thanks and love that he couldn’t find the words to convey, but he did appreciate the pillows. He didn’t feel like moving or speaking or…anything, really, but Ignis’ soft, focused gaze drew more words out of him. “I, uh…I guess some water would be okay, too,” he murmured, gripping Noctis a little bit tighter. His oldest friend was just trying his best, Gladio knew, because caring was what Ignis _did._ It was his role in their quad, to cook and nurse and comfort. And in the face of this new adversary it was all he had to resort to.

“Of course,” Ignis said again, but with renewed vigor. He stepped out of the tent for a moment and returned with a water bottle, one with a straw embedded in the lid. Were Gladio feeling better he might have chuckled at the choice—there was no risk of it spilling in the tent and he didn’t even have to sit up to drink. How did the man think of everything? Ignis was far too good to them—to him.

Gladio had to stop himself there, because that stung. He tried to push the thoughts away, but his traitorous mind flung memories of Ignis injured and suffering to the forefront of his thoughts. The first time they fought a tonberry, when Ignis came away with his calf slashed open. When the stinger of a killer wasp skewered clear through Ignis’ arm after a hunt in the Vesperpool. The image of his partner crumbled in the grass after an iron giant flung him against a boulder.

 _I could have stopped that. I could have saved him._ The thought filtered through his mind, unbidden by any of Gladio’s attempts to think of better days. Cuddling in a hotel bed together, sharing a good meal or celebrating a hard-won victory. Nothing helped. He couldn’t squeeze an ounce of joy out of those memories, only sorrow and failure and helplessness.

“Gladio?” He’d never tire of the sound of his name on Ignis’ tongue, though. It was enough to pull him back to the present, for now, “didn’t you want some?” He offered the water, but kept a hand on it, steadying it as Gladio sipped.  

“Would you like any breakfast?” Ignis asked after Gladio drank his fill. On instinct Gladio put a hand to his mouth, his stomach churning at the thought, and laid his head back down. He should have been relaxed in this setting, surrounded by his partners and swaddled in familiar scents, but between his pounding heart, building nausea and trembling hands, he doubted he could even keep down soup.

They remained like that for the rest of the day; Noctis sitting by Gladio’s side, or lying when he got tired of sitting up, carding his fingers through the other man’s dark hair, holding him close, reminding him that they all loved him beyond measure, reminding him to drink water. Gladio only got up when his body absolutely demanded it, then returned to the tent with a renewed bout of exhaustion and slept for hours at a time. In any other circumstance Noctis would have drawn this routine on for a week, but now he already wanted it to be over. The tent’s only saving grace was their jerry-rigged air conditioning—a portable fan with two blizzara spells sitting behind it—that circulated cool air around the tent. With temperatures reaching ninety degrees during the day, they would have been miserable otherwise.

Prompto and Ignis alternated between accompanying Noctis in the tent and going about menial tasks around camp.

“We can’t be sure how long this will last,” Ignis told Prompto over lunch. It was one in the afternoon, but Gladio had yet to eat anything. He was still complaining about nausea, Noctis told them, and they couldn’t _force_ the man to eat if he wasn’t feeling well. “So, if we remain camped here for a number of days, we need to stay productive.” It was so like Ignis, too, staving off his own emotions with chores like organizing the trunk of the Regalia and scrubbing down the grill.

By the time the sun set Ignis stood over his now clean grill, and Gladio _still_ hadn’t had a bite all day. The small pot of soup simmering on the grill had Gladio’s name written all over it, though. After pouring the broth into a mug and letting it cool to a decent temperature Ignis ferried it into the tent. Prompto and Noctis were on either side of Gladio this time; Noct running a brush through Gladio’s bedraggled hair while Prompto tried to massage the tension out of his calves. They all raised their heads at Ignis’ entrance, but Gladio flinched away yet again at the prospect of food.

“Gladio, please,” Ignis pleaded, moving carefully to sit without spilling the broth. Noctis and Prompto both stopped their ministrations while Ignis spoke, “you have to eat. Look, it’s just broth. It’s warm, it’s comforting, it will make you feel better, I promise.” He moved himself closer, sliding a hand under Gladio’s shoulder to help the man sit up.

He cast Noctis a look, as if he couldn’t proceed without his partner’s approval, and Noct offered him a hand. Once Gladio took it, Noctis gripped tight and hauled him into a sitting position like he always had—like they were out in the grasslands of Duscae in the middle of a bright, sunny day and had just bested a herd of garula. It felt…good, for a moment, before the ache in his shoulders hit him like the slap of a sahagin’s tail. Ignis was right there with a helping hand, though, helping him find his balance and pushing a warm mug into his hands—but never letting go. It was comforting, even if his stomach wanted to protest his need for nutrition.   

A belly full of warm soup and the warm presence of his partners surrounding him certainly made it easier to fall asleep. Their usual sleeping positions were shaken up, but Gladio was more relieved than he could ever express to be bordered by Noctis and Ignis while Prompto slept up by his head. His mind was merciful that night, and he found sleep relatively fast.

 

* * *

 

The next day brought much of the same, but Gladio did manage to sit up for more than five minutes at a time. It was a step in the right direction, Ignis thought, though it was obvious that fatigue and exhaustion still plagued him. Ignis managed to convince him to eat some rice and egg for breakfast, but after a few spoonfuls his arms gave in and collapsed down into his lap, a few stray grains of rice jumping out of the bowl and littering the tent floor.

“Sorry, Iggs…” Gladio groaned, his empty gaze fixated on the wasted rice as Ignis plucked them off the ground, “m’ arms are so heavy…”

Ignis took this new development and filed it away in his mind with all the others, somewhere between ‘sleeps for more than twelve hours a day’ and ‘can’t eat more than half a bowl of anything’. He said nothing aloud, but moved closer to Gladio and helped him hold up the bowl and spoon for a few more bites.

Prompto was Gladio’s fixation today—latching on to him when he was nearby or opening his arms with a pleading gaze when he wasn’t. Prompto gave in every time, of course, not only because he loved the physical affection himself, but he was fairly sure Gladio needed it to function. The way those big arms would latch on to him, the way Gladio would coo and relax and nuzzle into the crook of his neck as Prompto ran his hands up and down the other man’s tattooed back…Prompto wished they could do this all the time, as Gladio was often shy about his own want for physical affection.

Today, though, hugs were the best damn thing in the world, as far as Gladio was concerned. The way Prompto didn’t care if he let his arms go limp around him and would keep rubbing his back even if he fell asleep on his partner’s shoulder. It was the only thing that got him through the day, he thought—or maybe he should credit Prompto with that, but the hugs were a close second—that and the little bites of food Ignis kept bringing him.

Leaving the confines of the tent was still beyond him. It felt so personal, so private, being enclosed in the small space with the three of them. The havens were inexplicably safe in his mind—which was probably not a good assumption, but he ignored it for now—so between that, the support of his partners and Ignis bringing him food and water, he didn’t see a reason to leave, even if he had the motivation.

(Which he didn’t, but he could lie to himself for a day or two, he rationalized.)

After breakfast the next morning—just toast today, good for upset stomachs—Gladio moved to lay back down, but was distracted by Ignis digging through his duffel bag, sorting out the dirty clothes from the clean. Ignis approached him with a pair of sweatpants and a tank top and forced him to change, and Gladio _did_ have to admit that wearing clean clothes for the first time in three days made him feel marginally better.

He still hadn’t left the tent, though, and had no plans to do that today. He was lying on a clean bedroll in clean clothes and Noctis was rubbing his head, scratching his nails along Gladio’s scalp and, honest to Shiva, Gladio could have died happy right then and there.

But he was still the Shield of the King and, even though his King was very good at head rubs, Gladio still had to protect him. So Noct could continue on and live to give head rubs for years to come. Right. He’d kind of forgotten the ‘protecting’ part. He wished he hadn’t remembered it.

“Gladio,” Ignis addressed him that night, like he wasn’t wrapped head to toe in Noctis’ blanket staring at his unfinished bowl of curry, “would you like us to go pick up Iris and bring her back here? Cape Caem isn’t terribly far…”

Gladio’s immediate reaction was to give into the tears pooling in his eyes. He couldn’t imagine Iris seeing her big brother like this. He wanted to see Iris, but he didn’t want Iris to see her big brother falling apart.

“No,” he forced out, voice raw and watery, “she’s been so strong.  I have to be strong for her, too.”

Ignis deflated a bit, setting down his own bowl of curry. What was the beast that had wrapped itself around their shield’s heart and brain and convinced him that he was weak and worthless? Ignis wanted nothing more than to find it and pierce its heart, to drag it out into the open and behead it, but life was not that simple.

“Would it help if I promised you that she wouldn’t judge you? Grieving is healthy, Gladio, and having someone to grieve with could help with the pain,” he tried, but Gladio was not convinced.

“I have you guys,” he murmured, barely more than a whisper, squeezing his eyes shut against the onslaught of tears.

“We’re right here,” Noctis said, rubbing Gladio’s arm as he tried to will the tears away, “and we’re not going anywhere.”

Ignis didn’t bring it up again. Perhaps another time, after they’d weathered this storm.   

 

* * *

 

Some other day he sat around the fire with the guys and almost felt normal for a moment. Except it was 75 degrees even though the sun was down and he was wearing a hoodie, sweatpants and a thick pair of socks. Anything that wasn’t insular, protective clothing still felt too vulnerable, but at least he was getting closer to eating full meals again.

He looked out upon the big, wide world beyond the haven while Noctis rambled about the fishing trip he and Prompto went on that day to supply them with dinner. He tried to recall the feelings of road tripping and doing hunts as a team, but in his mind he couldn’t even get past climbing into the Regalia. It used to be familiar—it was their _life_ —but now it seemed impossible. Just stepping beyond the glowing rock of the haven…it was an effort beyond measure. He didn’t want to send himself into another episode, so he stopped thinking about it all together.

On day number Gladio-never-bothered-counting-in-the-first-place, he felt the long-forgotten spark of motivation rise within him. It occurred to him the night before that he ought to tell his partners _why_ he was acting this way. His memory between when they’d arrived at the haven and the morning he completely shut down was a little fuzzy, but he was fairly sure he hadn’t given the three of them any other reasoning that wasn’t _I’m suffering and I can’t communicate why._

It also occurred to him how scared he’d be if Noctis ever fell into such a state. Or Prompto. Or Ignis. He’d probably be climbing the Rock of Ravatogh to find the solution, much less catering to their every need as they lay motionless in the tent for a week. Right, so, he had to tell them.

Once again he retreated back to the safest place he could come up with—the tent. It was the middle of the day and he asked Noctis to take his hand and come back to the tent with him, and for Prom and Ignis to follow.

It was painful and his communication was still limited, at best, but the warmth of Noctis’ hand in his spurred him on to put words together as best he could and try to get his message across.

“I’m…sorry. That I couldn’t find the words to tell you this earlier,” he said, because that sounded like as good a place as any to start, “I woke up that day and I felt like…nothing. Like I was worth nothing. Like I couldn’t protect any of you, even though that’s the only job I have to do.”

His three partners were silent. He didn’t notice the tears gathering in Prompto’s eyes.

“So I just…” he gestured with his hands like he was dropping some great weight, “I just couldn’t go on anymore. I shut down, because I had nowhere left to go.”

He hoped the three weren’t expecting any more, because he wasn’t sure he _had_ anything more to give. Maybe some other time, after he’d processed all his feelings—or lack thereof—from the past few days, but not today.

Regardless, he felt a remarkable difference in the weight in his chest. It no longer felt like an anvil was sitting in the space between his heart and his stomach, no longer was there iron in his lungs stealing his breath. There was no way he could have admitted this any sooner, he knew, but he wished he could jump back in time a few days and reassure himself that things weren’t as hard as they seemed.

The Gladio from three days ago still wouldn’t have believed it, he reasoned, but the sentiment was nice.

Whatever he expected from his partner’s reactions it definitely wasn’t for Prompto to start weeping, thick, round tears rolling down his cheeks as he tried to keep silent. Gladio’s heart started pounding, pulse skyrocketing as he scrambled to dig out an appropriate reaction to Prompto’s tears among his jumbled emotions.

“P-prom, I’m sorry—”

“No, no, it’s okay,” Prompto reassured, forcing himself to smile as he wiped the tears away, “You don’t have to apologize, I’m just so _relieved_ ,” a short sob slipped past his lips, but he recomposed himself quickly, “I just…I just don’t want you to feel that way, Glads. I don’t want you to feel useless, cause you aren’t.” He sniffled, still unable to fight the instinct to cry. When words failed him he leaned forward and wrapped his arms snug around Gladio’s neck, trying to imitate the comfort they’d had days before.

“I’ve just…” Prompto started, pulling away a few long moments later, “I know what it feels like, to feel worthless or useless, but in the past, when I’ve been low like that, _you_ were the one to help me out of it. A-and, so I, I never want you to feel that way, that you’re useless, because you’re _not_ because you mean so much to _me_ and, oh, _Gladio,”_ he took Gladio’s hands and buried his face in them, “you mean so much to me, you can’t even imagine.”

They held each other and Prompto cried for a few more minutes, but in the meantime Gladio looked to his other two partners for reactions.

Ignis looked infinitely relieved that he had just a smidgen of _understanding_ of what was troubling Gladio so deeply. The relief and love in his expression made every difficult word of his confession worth it.

Noctis, like himself, was not skilled at expressing his emotions in words, so that night he pulled Gladio just a little bit closer, comforting and hugging him until he drifted off, their hands still intertwined.

The four remained at the haven for yet another few days as Gladio focused on functioning as part of the group again. On their final morning Gladio changed into clothes more suited for adventuring before they departed.

(His ‘normal’ clothes, his crownsguard issue clothes. He recalled being so proud to finally wear them, though he had trouble feeling that same emotion now. One step at a time, Ignis said.)  

Gladio helped Prompto dissemble and pack up the tent while Ignis and Noctis took care of the kitchen equipment. Prompto knew his routine, knew what to do and say to restore some level of normalcy to their departure and every effort was a huge comfort, for Gladio.

In the end they did decide to travel down to Cape Caem and see Iris, but to take it slow, to stop along the way and go at their own pace as Gladio worked on sorting out his emotions. Their first stop, at Ignis’ request, was a decent motel with a laundromat, as they were all in desperate need of a shower and a clean load of clothes.

After a full round of showers—and a much needed shave for Gladio—Prompto and Noctis were put on laundry duty while Ignis and Gladio utilized their few quiet hours for a nap—because both driving and recovering from a weeklong bout of depression were quite tiring.

Gladio opted for more of a doze as he cuddled into Ignis’ side, his head resting on the broad expanse of his partner’s chest. Even in sleep Ignis pulled him closer, his hand settling along the outer curve of Gladio’s thigh hooked over Ignis’ own legs. His eyes were trained on the soft curve of Ignis’ throat as their chests rose and fell together, Gladio reveling in the intimacy of having one of his partners hold him close.

Ignis stirred a few moments later, his hand unconsciously tightening around Gladio’s thigh. Gladio couldn’t help but smirk at his dazed expression, blinking awake like he’d forgotten where they were.

“Oh, sorry,” he murmured, giving the muscled thigh a pat, “hadn’t meant to doze off.”

“Don’t be sorry—takes a lot of energy, takin’ care of all three of us.”

“Please, it’s not all that bad,” Ignis smirked, moving away from Gladio’s embrace and stretching his shoulders, “I’ve trained Prompto to cook breakfast _and_ fold laundry. That’s at least a third of my duties.” 

Gladio laughed—for the first time in what felt like weeks—as he rolled over to kneel over Ignis. He submitted as Gladio placed a knee on either side of his hips, but with a cautious glint in his eye.

“Something wrong?” Gladio asked, dipping down to press a kiss to Ignis’ lips. Ignis responded in kind, but did not push him.

“No, just don’t want to force you into anything you’re not comfortable with,” he laid his hands on Gladio’s hips, then squeezed lightly when his partner didn’t protest or tense up, “the offer’s always on the table, though.”

Gladio hummed, ducking down for another kiss, this time just under Ignis’ chin. He delighted in the barely-there stubble that scratched against his lips.

Any further tender touches were interrupted by the motel door creaking open as Noctis and Prompto dragged in four full laundry bags.

“Washed, dried and fold—hey!” Prompto protested, tossing his and Ignis’ bags down, “How come _you_ two get to be all frisky with each other while we do laundry?” He huffed and put his hands on his hips, though they all knew Prom was just playing with them. Behind him, Noctis hauled his and Gladio’s laundry into the same vicinity.

“Perhaps if you ask nicely you can join us,” Ignis suggested, and Prompto’s eyes lit up as he scrambled closer, hauling himself up onto the bed and draping his weight across Gladio’s back.

“Pleeaaasseee, can we join you Gladdy?” he intoned as Gladio grunted under his weight. Prom was lucky he didn’t weigh more than a hundred forty pounds wet.

“It’s fine, it’s fine! Just get off me, blondie!” he forced out, his arms starting to shake as he tried not to collapse and crush Ignis beneath him. He exhaled when Prompto rolled off with a cheer, letting his back curve in relaxation.

Ignis chuckled, sympathy in his eyes as he rubbed up and down Gladio’s sides. “Let’s get you comfortable, hmm? Don’t want you to strain anything while you’re still getting better,” he suggested, and Gladio acquiesced, letting Ignis guide him gently on to his side before letting his back relax into the mattress.

Noctis might have been more eager than Prompto, as he beat the other boy to Gladio. His shirt was already gone and his jeans undone, leaving them to ride low on his hips as a growing bulge pressed out from his underwear.

“Have we ever told you,” Noctis purred, his fingers tracing Gladio’s tattoo down his arms while he peppered kisses along his collarbone, “how much we love you?” Prompto giggled from beside him, drawing Gladio’s gaze to his other partner.

“Noct,” he whined, but with a sunny smile on his face, “move, it’s my turn.”

“Since when did we have ‘turns’?”

“Since you’ve been with him the last two times we’ve been together, _that’s_ when,” Prompto stood firm and Noctis conceded, letting Prompto take his place between Gladio’s legs. From beside them, Ignis consoled Noct with strong arms around his waist and a line of kisses pressed down his neck.

“You’re beautiful,” Prompto said into Gladio’s skin, massaging his hips as he slid Gladio’s boxers down and off his legs. Prompto divested himself similarly before going back to Gladio, reaching up to tangle his fingers in dark hair while Gladio wrapped his arms and legs around slim shoulders and hips. A hug was, perhaps, too chaste for this moment, but the sensation felt gratifying all the same. Gladio loved them, he loved them _so much._ He wanted nothing more than to drown in their presence, to suffocate in his own dedication.

If Ignis were reading his thoughts at the moment, he would have said something witty like ‘ _Ask and ye shall receive’_ because Gladio was surely about to receive as Prompto slicked up two fingers in preparation. Noctis and Ignis, now on either side of him, had moved past their selfish, protective streaks and dedicated themselves instead to goading him closer and closer to surrender.

Prompto tugged him down closer to the edge of the bed before nudging his thighs further apart. His first finger slipped in with ease. Noctis helped Gladio along, stroking him to full hardness while Ignis pressed loving yet powerful kisses to his lips, intertwining his fingers with Gladio’s, holding on like Gladio would float away if he let go. It was a fair assumption, Gladio mused, as he and Ignis broke apart, only for Noctis to take his place. Greedy lips pressed against Gladio’s, his tongue pushing between them as Noctis pulled him down deeper. A second finger joined the first.

Whatever illusion they were using on him was certainly working. Gladio felt…safe. Yes, safe, he decided. A feeling that hadn’t floated to the surface of his consciousness in quite some time.

“Hey, at least let me see his face,” Prompto’s lilt brought him back to the moment and Noctis huffed as he moved, a satisfied smirk on his face as he pressed one last kiss to the corner of Gladio’s cautious smile. Oh, when had that gotten there?

“You ready, big guy?” He hadn’t noticed when Prompto’s fingers vacated him, but it didn’t matter now. Somewhere below him was the sound of lube sliding against skin as his partner finished preparing. He was ready, Gladio decided, before reaching up and cupping the wild blonde fluff on the back of Prompto’s head and pulling him down. He wished he could convey all his emotions in a kiss, all the things he couldn’t find the confidence to say a month ago or a day ago or a year from now. He’d never know if it was enough, but the look in Prompto’s eyes as he pulled away would have to do.

After that, Prompto didn’t waste one movement. “I’ve got you,” he reassured, placing one hand on Gladio’s knee as he lined himself up and slowly sunk in. Gladio moaned, deep and wanton as a fullness that he’d been without for far too long overtook him. Instinctively he reached for Prompto’s hand, seeking another point of contact, and grasped at his partner’s arm until their fingers finally intertwined, floating in between them as Prompto began with shallow thrusts.

Their other two partners gradually joined in, Noctis’ spindly fingers stroking over his balls before a wide, warm tongue swathed from the base to the very tip of his cock. He arched up off the bed, spasming shivers running up and down his body as Noctis pulled back his foreskin before taking the head of his cock between plush lips.

Gladio moved to cover the string of moans that escaped his mouth—because _Six above_ Noctis was good at sucking cock—but Ignis caught his hand before he had the chance.

Green eyes bore into his as a kiss was pressed to his palm, and then steady hands—calloused from daggers and driving—swept across his chest. Ignis rolled and pinched his nipples between the pads of his fingers while pressing harsh, intermittent kisses against his lips, separating to give Gladio moments to breath and moan.

The tsunami of sensations was wonderful— _wonderfully safe_ —but a man could only last so long while high on love. Gladio wrapped his legs around Prompto’s hips, rolling his hips in sync with Prompto’s thrusts. The position limited Prompto’s range of movement but intensified the fullness that Gladio so craved. As Prompto found those dazed amber eyes among all the movement, unfocused in bliss yet still full of gratitude, he knew that this was what Gladio needed. To be close to them, to be so filled up that he couldn’t focus on anything else—and Prompto could give it to him.

Noctis contributed from the other end, relaxing his jaw to take in almost all of Gladio’s thick cock. What he couldn’t cover with his lips he fondled with his fingers, alternating between squeezing the base and tracing the seam between his balls. All three listened as the chorus of Gladio’s moans grew breathy, signifying that his climax was nearing.

Since Prompto couldn’t move as much Noctis redoubled his efforts, thrusting Gladio’s cock in and out of his mouth in a smooth, flowing motion, twisting and rolling his tongue around the length in his mouth as he saw fit. Ignis stopped pinching his erect, sensitive nipples and wrapped an arm around his ribs, running his nails across Gladio’s side in delicate lines.

“You’re doing so well,” he whispered encouragements into the shell of Gladio’s ear, “You’re the only one for us; the only one who could do this all for us.” Gladio practically keened as the words set in, and Ignis suspected it wasn’t just from Noctis’ lips on his erection, “That’s it. Now relax…relax and let us catch you…”

And catch him they did, as Gladio went rigid against the sheets and came deep in Noctis’ mouth. The aftershocks of his orgasm triggered Prompto’s as he thrust in deep, encouraged by Gladio’s legs locking around his hips, and spilled his cum inside his partner. Ignis—hand still secure across Gladio’s ribs—held him steady through the tremors of his post-orgasm haze, ignoring his own hard, leaking cock in favor of assuring Gladio came down from his high gently.

(Noctis would later admit to coming untouched while deft hands helped Ignis finish, but he hardly needed the help after he envisioned Noctis climaxing just off the weight of a cock in his mouth. He filed _that_ away for later use, when they were all feeling up to something more interesting.)

After cleaning up and shifting Gladio beneath the sheets—in between all of them, just like in the tent, though now Prompto curled against Noctis’ back—Ignis did one more cursory once over his partners before turning off the light. Prompto and Noctis were already fast asleep, or well on their way there, while Gladio was—

Ignis would never put into words the terror that ran through his heart when he found Gladio staring up at the ceiling, his mouth slightly agape as tears gathered in his eyes. The scene was far too reminiscent of the scene that started the whole ordeal.

“Gladio, is something wrong?” the words leapt out of his mouth as he tried to hide his alarm. He had to keep cool and calm—no use scaring Gladio back in to a self-loathing spiral.

“Huh?” he just barely stirred, shifting his eyes over to Ignis. Ignis’ voice also drew Noct and Prom out of their doze, two sets of blue eyes blinking open to see what the fuss was about.

“Oh…” Gladio exhaled when he realized the moisture gathering in the corners of his eyes. “I’m…I’m fine, just kinda emotional, I guess,” he wiped the back of his hand across his eyes, “I…really love you guys.”

The words should have made Ignis’ heart soar, but instead they just made his chest ache. It was reassuring, but a little bit overwhelming, to listen to Gladio being so open and honest.

Noctis said nothing, but wrapped an arm around Gladio’s chest and pulled himself flush up against his partner. The action left a space between Noct and Prom, but Prompto was quick to close it. They both relied so heavily on physical affection; Ignis bet they _loved_ this new development.

“I was thinkin’, too,” Gladio said, wiggling one arm out from under the sheets and wrapping it around both Noct and Prom’s shoulders. “Why did this all happen now?” he wondered, “Insomnia fell weeks…months ago. Why did this only hit me now?”

His two smaller partners remained silent, but they could all feel their nervous energy as they fidgeted under the sheets. Like Gladio, they couldn’t find an answer.

Ignis himself wasn’t even sure he had a decent one, but it was better than nothing. He couldn’t leave Gladio to stress and contemplate over this all night. “Perhaps it’s because you didn’t feel safe, before this?” he suggested, and three pairs of eyes looked up to him, “we were, well, gallivanting around the countryside every minute before. Avoiding magitek ships, having run-ins with Ardyn, facing Astrals, acclimating to the world outside the Crown City, fighting for our lives and trying to help people out here. It would make sense that sorting out your emotions and coming to terms with the loss of your father, your city, your old life would just…fall by the wayside.”

“So he felt safe enough to do that, you mean,” Prompto chimed in, propping himself up on an elbow, “Like his mind just knew that he was more equipped to process that stuff now, so it just dumped it all on him at once.”

“I…suppose that sounds right. I haven’t experienced anything like it myself, so I wouldn’t really know.”

“Yeah, true,” Prompto flopped back down onto the bed, crossing his arms behind his head, “I get it, though. It happened to me once, I think.”

That caught Noctis’ attention, “When?” he asked, also rolling onto his back to look at his partner. Prompto kept his eyes trained on the ceiling, shifting his lips side to side as he thought.

“It was…right after your seventeenth birthday, when you invited me over to your apartment. We all had cake together, remember? It was the first time I met Gladio and Ignis, so I didn’t really know them, but Ignis offered me this amazing piece of cake that he made himself, and Gladio invited me to play video games with him while you fawned over the presents you got. I was so…comfortable.”

“A few days later I woke up and it just kinda…hit me,” he spoke softly, like no one beyond the bed was worthy of hearing his tale, “I had _friends_. I don’t remember being sad? Cause Gladio seemed more sad; I just felt numb. I didn’t do anything all weekend, not even my homework, but on Monday I didn’t care that I didn’t turn anything in. I went home and couldn’t do anything—text you or take photos or work out.”

 Prompto shook his head, thinking back on those days, “I think I couldn’t figure out how to respond to an emotion I’d never felt before. It took…a long time, but eventually the feeling wore off. I don’t think I handled it very well—I definitely didn’t let my three great friends take care of me, like I should have,” he flashed them a smile, but tears were gathering in his eyes, “But I did the best I could. And I came out on the other side with a lot of trust for you guys. And...love, too.”

They all fell into silence, as Prompto didn’t seem intent on sharing any more of his story that night. Compassion swelled in Gladio’s chest as he looked at Prompto. See, this was the problem he always ran in to; how could he express adoration like Prompto, who loved so openly? How could he repay each of his partners for their dedication when he could barely sort out his emotions?

 _Protect them,_ some instinct deep inside him whispered, and the sentiment resonated straight through to his soul. Yes, protect them, like he always had, and always would. Maybe he could work on letting _them_ protect _him_ sometimes, too.

It wasn’t in issue that could be solved in a night, he concluded, as Ignis and Prompto shifted the blanket up to cover all of them. As the room went dark and the sheets rustled as they all settled into comfortable positions, Gladio let himself float back into his own mind. He thought about how he categorized people, especially ‘ _people I love’_ and ‘ _people I would die for’._ Maybe it was time to put the three of them under a new category, as the other two were getting quite crowded. _People that love me? People I can trust?_ He couldn’t decide. Every category he thought up was too broad and ended up encompassing more than just their quad.

 _People that understand_ , drifted through his mind just as sleep began to pull him down. Yeah, that was a good one, he thought, though he wasn’t sure he’d remember it in the morning as he surrendered to sleep, his prince’s hand cradled close to his heart.


	2. EXCERPT

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is not a new chapter. This is an excerpt of the fic, cut shorter for a fanzine submission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not a new chapter. This is an excerpt of the fic, cut shorter for a fanzine submission.

Gladio went and bested the Blademaster and got a badass new scar and a badass new sword and everything. And it still wasn't enough.

He was the shield. He protected his charge just like his father protected his King, and now  _he_ was the Shield of the King because his father had done such a good job at his role that he'd actually fulfilled it. Despite their purpose of protecting the king, a surprisingly few amount of Amicitas ever died for Caelums. Circumstances always seemed to get in the way.

But Clarus Amicitia did. And now the mantle fell to him.

So he was the Shield of the King and he protected Noctis, but somewhere along the way Ignis and Prompto migrated into the overlapping headspace of  _'people I love'_  and  _'people I would die for'_  that was supposed to be reserved for only Noctis. He’d like to lie to himself and say he hadn’t noticed it happening, but it would be the biggest lie he’d ever told.

He knew exactly when it happened, he remembered the specific moments for both of them. For Ignis it was when he threw himself over top of Noctis to protect him from a Zu’s gigantic claws. Claws that were as big as his leg and could have ripped Ignis apart in one swipe, but the advisor put himself between Noct and those claws and in that moment Gladio knew. If Ignis was willing to die for Noctis, if he had  _physical proof_ , then Gladio would protect him, too.

For Prompto he started feeling it when they descended into the Balouve Mines. The boy was shaking and on the verge of a breakdown but he still kept going, even as they were forced to wade through muddy, tepid water and goblins threw mine carts at them. Once faced with that devilish Aramusha, though, Prompto didn’t hesitate for a second. When he saw it winding up he pushed Noctis out of the way and received a sword through the stomach for his troubles. They almost lost Prompto that day, and Gladio shuddered at the thought. As the boy lied there, bleeding out on the floor of the mine, Ignis pouring a high elixir into his stomach and Gladio restraining his hands, Gladio knew.

So now it hurt three times as much. It wasn’t just when Noctis was picked up by a dualhorn and thrown clear across the battlefield. It wasn’t just when a coerl electrocuted Prompto into such a stupor that he couldn’t move his hands. It wasn’t just when Ignis got so poisoned that he couldn’t keep anything down for three days. It was all of those times. All of those times and every time one of them came out of a battle with more than just a bruise.

Every time he had to drop down next to one of them in the heat of battle, an elixir or antidote or phoenix down at the ready, his mind descended into a never ending mantra of I could have I could have I could have I could have I could—

(He could have gotten there sooner. He could have swung his sword faster. He could have not miscalculated that step. He could have not underestimated that monster. He could have done  _better.)_

Why did it have to happen? He loved them so much. Why wasn't love enough? Wasn’t that what you learned as a kid, that love conquered all? Why wasn't his love strong enough to protect them?

He would like to think he’s strong, that standing there and watching his comrades, his brothers, the  _loves of his life_  get mutilated didn’t affect him, but again, he’d be lying. But he has to be strong for them, so, for the most part, he kept it to himself and only cried when it really got to him. Only cried in the shower or when they rented a camper and he got a bed to himself. He’d seen Prompto break down before, into tears and shakes and incomprehensible babble, and promised himself he’d never have it that bad. Not that he thought Prompto weak—quite the opposite. It was just that if he ever got started with that sort of thing, he wouldn’t be able to stop.  

What finally did trigger him was no surprise, though. Regardless of what position Prompto and Ignis took in his mind, Noctis always had been and always would be his first priority. So when not only he, but all  _three_ of them failed to protect Noct, Gladio reached a new level of helplessness.

(He recalled reading the medical chart at the end of the bed. Fractured skull, dislocated shoulder, some level of concussion that couldn’t be fully assessed because he was in a coma for a  _week._ ) 

Noctis was nothing if not resilient, though, and the boys didn’t doubt that the crystal helped him recover, even from thousands of miles away. The doctors released him after only a few weeks due to his ‘miraculous’ recovery, but being back on the road and back to normal would never erase the memory of seeing Noctis, eyes wide open in unblinking horror, lying on the ground in a puddle of his own blood, his head cracked open and his arm sitting at an angle that shouldn’t have been possible.

So, roughly a week after Noctis was out of the hospital, on a day like any other, Gladio slept in. He slept through Ignis making coffee and through Prompto stumbling out of his sleeping bag and tripping over his own shoes. He even slept longer than Noctis, who woke up and thought it quite odd that Gladio was still asleep, facing away from him. The last time Gladio slept later than him was...never? Maybe he was sick?

Like any other morning Noctis sat up, pushed aside the top layer of his sleeping bag and stretched his arms up over his head. “Good morning, big guy,” he said, crawling over to shake Gladio's shoulder, “what's kept you in so...late…”

As he peered over into Gladio's face he did not find the man sleeping peacefully. Instead, those familiar, beautiful amber eyes were cracked open as he stared, slack-jawed, into the tent wall. Tears were leaking down his face and soaking into his pillow. 

“Gladio,” Noctis laid a hand on his shoulder, even though it was obvious the other man was already awake. He got no response. “Gladio, what's wrong?” he tried again, distant sirens starting to wail in his head. Something was wrong; Noctis didn't know what, but something was terribly wrong on this, a morning like any other. 

“I'll be right back,” he reassured Gladio, though he wasn't sure he was actually hearing anything Noctis said. Again, no response. 

Noctis pulled on his boots and scrambled out of the tent in naught but his boxers and a tank top. Outside Ignis and Prompto were enjoying mugs of coffee while ham and biscuits sizzled on the grill.

“Ignis!” he called, his mind slipping back to his younger days when he'd call out to his chamberlain  whenever something felt so insurmountable that he’d need a friend by his side, “Something's wrong with Gladio. He won't get out of bed.”

Saying it out loud sounded a bit silly, and his other two partners snorted at the sentiment. “What, does he want a kiss to get out of bed?” Prompto taunted, putting a hand on his hip, but Noctis did not falter.

“Prompto, I’m not joking,” he said, and it came out rather harsh, but he didn’t care. It got Prompto and Ignis’ smiles to drop right off their faces, so it was worth it. He moved closer to them, spoke quieter, hoping Gladio wasn’t upset by their bickering. “Something’s really wrong with him, guys. He’s just laying there,” he said, then hesitated, because the next part didn’t sound anything like Gladio, “and he’s crying.”

“Do you know why?” Ignis asked shooting him a calculating glance as he set down his coffee mug and moved to turn off the grill.

Noctis fidgeted, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “I...I don’t know,” he admitted.

Ignis hummed in contemplation, putting a finger to his chin as he thought, but then waved off whatever theory had been developing in his mind. “It’s no matter. Let’s see what we can do.”

Upon entering the tent they found Gladio in the same place Noctis left him, but worse. He was shaking, trembling as if under some immense weight. Ignis wasted no time in taking a knee next to the man and placing a hand on his shoulder, but went no further. He paused, waiting for Gladio to get used to his presence, before he spoke.

“Gladio,” he spoke clear and slow, trying to muster up his most tender tone, “are you alright?”

It was a silly question, he knew, but hopefully one that would lead into a much more enlightening conversation. Ignis’ voice did the trick and Gladio rolled over with the grace of a rusty doorknob that hadn’t been turned in years. His eyes were rimmed with red and puffy from tears, and Ignis felt a lot of his confidence about this being a minor issue run down the drain.

“I…” Gladio winced at his own voice, raspy and cracking, “…no. I’m not.” He paused, his eyes darting all over the tent. Meanwhile his three partners waited on edge, desperately wanting to know what behemoth had upset Gladio so they could go and slay it, as if it could be resolved so easily.

“I haven’t been okay since we learned the city was attacked,” he said, and that threw Noctis for a loop, because he knew the feeling, but Insomnia fell almost  _two months ago_ , “I haven’t been okay since I lost my dad.” Gladio’s voice was wavering and he  _hated_  the sound of it. “I-Ignis, by the astrals…I’m so  _scared_.” He shook his head, sniffling as he covered his eyes with a hand, “I feel so empty. Why does everything hurt so much?”

Ignis, for one of the few times in his life, could not find the words to comfort his partner. But that was no excuse to say nothing. Gladio was obviously having a bit of an episode, though to what extent Ignis couldn’t say. Think, Ignis, think…he had to be firm, so he could perhaps prevent Gladio from slipping further into this depression, but also understanding, so Gladio could keep venting these insecurities if he needed to.

“Gladio,” he addressed him, and Gladio let his hand slide off his face to look at Ignis, “It’s okay if you don’t want to leave the tent,” he paused, trying to pick his words carefully, “But I need you to tell me what you need, to the best of your ability. Even if it’s something simple.”

Gladio exhaled, letting out a little moan as he deflated back into his thin camping pad. Good, Ignis thought. The question was simple enough to understand, but stunned him into thinking about his immediate needs rather than his jumbled emotions.

“Can…can Noctis come sit next to me?” he asked, his watering eyes hiding no emotion. It made Ignis’ chest ache—through all his pain and sorrow, all he wanted was for his prince, his love, to come sit and be close to him.

“Of course,” Ignis forced out, and behind him Noctis had already discarded his boots in the corner. He shuffled around the other two and settled near Gladio’s chest. Gladio wrapped his arms around Noctis’ waist like he never wanted to let go. He even pulled him closer, eliciting a squeak that Noct would surely deny, and nuzzled into his partner’s side, nosing aside Noct’s tank top to press his face into warm, soft skin.

Prompto moved next, gathering up the other pillows strewn around the tent. Pillows were wedged behind Gladio’s back and between his legs as Prompto built up a veritable nest of comfort and warmth around his lovers. He hoped Gladio wouldn’t be too warm…but if he were in the same position, it would have been what he wanted.  _Love_ and  _safe_  and  _together_  and all those feelings that made his anxiety not as miserable to deal with.

Gladio wasn’t sure Prompto caught the look he shot him, eyes full of thanks and love that he couldn’t find the words to convey, but he did appreciate the pillows. He didn’t feel like moving or speaking or…anything, really, but Ignis’ soft, focused gaze drew more words out of him. “I, uh…I guess some water would be okay, too,” he murmured, gripping Noctis a little bit tighter. His oldest friend was just trying his best, Gladio knew, because caring was what Ignis  _did._  It was his role in their quad, to cook and nurse and comfort. And in the face of this new adversary it was all he had to resort to.

“Of course,” Ignis said again, but with renewed vigor. He stepped out of the tent for a moment and returned with a water bottle, one with a straw embedded in the lid. Were Gladio feeling better he might have chuckled at the choice—there was no risk of it spilling in the tent and he didn’t even have to sit up to drink. How did the man think of everything? Ignis was far too good to them—to him.

Gladio had to stop himself there, because that stung. He tried to push the thoughts away, but his traitorous mind flung memories of Ignis injured and suffering to the forefront of his thoughts. The first time they fought a tonberry, when Ignis came away with his calf slashed open. When the stinger of a killer wasp skewered clear through Ignis’ arm after a hunt in the Vesperpool. The image of his partner crumbled in the grass after an iron giant flung him against a boulder.

_I could have stopped that. I could have saved him._  The thought filtered through his mind, unbidden by any of Gladio’s attempts to think of better days. Cuddling in a hotel bed together, sharing a good meal or celebrating a hard-won victory. Nothing helped. He couldn’t squeeze an ounce of joy out of those memories, only sorrow and failure and helplessness.

“Gladio?” He’d never tire of the sound of his name on Ignis’ tongue, though. It was enough to pull him back to the present, for now, “didn’t you want some?” He offered the water, but kept a hand on it, steadying it as Gladio sipped.  

“Would you like any breakfast?” Ignis asked after Gladio drank his fill. On instinct Gladio put a hand to his mouth, his stomach churning at the thought, and laid his head back down. He should have been relaxed in this setting, surrounded by his partners and swaddled in familiar scents, but between his pounding heart, building nausea and trembling hands, he doubted he could even keep down soup.

They remained like that for the rest of the day; Noctis sitting by Gladio’s side, or lying when he got tired of sitting up, carding his fingers through the other man’s dark hair, holding him close, reminding him that they all loved him beyond measure, reminding him to drink water. Gladio only got up when his body absolutely demanded it, then returned to the tent with a renewed bout of exhaustion and slept for hours at a time. In any other circumstance Noctis would have drawn this routine on for a week, but now he already wanted it to be over. The tent’s only saving grace was their jerry-rigged air conditioning—a portable fan with two blizzara spells sitting behind it—that circulated cool air around the tent. With temperatures reaching ninety degrees during the day, they would have been miserable otherwise.

Prompto and Ignis alternated between accompanying Noctis in the tent and going about menial tasks around camp.

“We can’t be sure how long this will last,” Ignis told Prompto over lunch. It was one in the afternoon, but Gladio had yet to eat anything. He was still complaining about nausea, Noctis told them, and they couldn’t  _force_ the man to eat if he wasn’t feeling well. “So, if we remain camped here for a number of days, we need to stay productive.” It was so like Ignis, too, staving off his own emotions with chores like organizing the trunk of the Regalia and scrubbing down the grill.

By the time the sun set Ignis stood over his now clean grill, and Gladio  _still_ hadn’t had a bite all day. The small pot of soup simmering on the grill had Gladio’s name written all over it, though. After pouring the broth into a mug and letting it cool to a decent temperature Ignis ferried it into the tent. Prompto and Noctis were on either side of Gladio this time; Noct running a brush through Gladio’s bedraggled hair while Prompto tried to massage the tension out of his calves. They all raised their heads at Ignis’ entrance, but Gladio flinched away yet again at the prospect of food.

“Gladio, please,” Ignis pleaded, moving carefully to sit without spilling the broth. Noctis and Prompto both stopped their ministrations while Ignis spoke, “you have to eat. Look, it’s just broth. It’s warm, it’s comforting, it will make you feel better, I promise.” He moved himself closer, sliding a hand under Gladio’s shoulder to help the man sit up.

He cast Noctis a look, as if he couldn’t proceed without his partner’s approval, and Noct offered him a hand. Once Gladio took it, Noctis gripped tight and hauled him into a sitting position like he always had—like they were out in the grasslands of Duscae in the middle of a bright, sunny day and had just bested a herd of garula. It felt…good, for a moment, before the ache in his shoulders hit him like the slap of a sahagin’s tail. Ignis was right there with a helping hand, though, helping him find his balance and pushing a warm mug into his hands—but never letting go. It was comforting, even if his stomach wanted to protest his need for nutrition.   

A belly full of warm soup and the warm presence of his partners surrounding him certainly made it easier to fall asleep. Their usual sleeping positions were shaken up, but Gladio was more relieved than he could ever express to be bordered by Noctis and Ignis while Prompto slept up by his head. His mind was merciful that night, and he found sleep relatively fast.

 

* * *

 

The next day brought much of the same, but Gladio did manage to sit up for more than five minutes at a time. It was a step in the right direction, Ignis thought, though it was obvious that fatigue and exhaustion still plagued him. Ignis managed to convince him to eat some rice and egg for breakfast, but after a few spoonfuls his arms gave in and collapsed down into his lap, a few stray grains of rice jumping out of the bowl and littering the tent floor.

“Sorry, Iggs…” Gladio groaned, his empty gaze fixated on the wasted rice as Ignis plucked them off the ground, “m’ arms are so heavy…”

Ignis took this new development and filed it away in his mind with all the others, somewhere between ‘sleeps for more than twelve hours a day’ and ‘can’t eat more than half a bowl of anything’. He said nothing aloud, but moved closer to Gladio and helped him hold up the bowl and spoon for a few more bites.

Prompto was Gladio’s fixation today—latching on to him when he was nearby or opening his arms with a pleading gaze when he wasn’t. Prompto gave in every time, of course, not only because he loved the physical affection himself, but he was fairly sure Gladio needed it to function. The way those big arms would latch on to him, the way Gladio would coo and relax and nuzzle into the crook of his neck as Prompto ran his hands up and down the other man’s tattooed back…Prompto wished they could do this all the time, as Gladio was often shy about his own want for physical affection.

Today, though, hugs were the best damn thing in the world, as far as Gladio was concerned. The way Prompto didn’t care if he let his arms go limp around him and would keep rubbing his back even if he fell asleep on his partner’s shoulder. It was the only thing that got him through the day, he thought—or maybe he should credit Prompto with that, but the hugs were a close second—that and the little bites of food Ignis kept bringing him.

Leaving the confines of the tent was still beyond him. It felt so personal, so private, being enclosed in the small space with the three of them. The havens were inexplicably safe in his mind—which was probably not a good assumption, but he ignored it for now—so between that, the support of his partners and Ignis bringing him food and water, he didn’t see a reason to leave, even if he had the motivation.

(Which he didn’t, but he could lie to himself for a day or two, he rationalized.)

After breakfast the next morning—just toast today, good for upset stomachs—Gladio moved to lay back down, but was distracted by Ignis digging through his duffel bag, sorting out the dirty clothes from the clean. Ignis approached him with a pair of sweatpants and a tank top and forced him to change, and Gladio  _did_ have to admit that wearing clean clothes for the first time in three days made him feel marginally better.

He still hadn’t left the tent, though, and had no plans to do that today. He was lying on a clean bedroll in clean clothes and Noctis was rubbing his head, scratching his nails along Gladio’s scalp and, honest to Shiva, Gladio could have died happy right then and there.

But he was still the Shield of the King and, even though his King was very good at head rubs, Gladio still had to protect him. So Noct could continue on and live to give head rubs for years to come. Right. He’d kind of forgotten the ‘protecting’ part. He wished he hadn’t remembered it.

“Gladio,” Ignis addressed him that night, like he wasn’t wrapped head to toe in Noctis’ blanket staring at his unfinished bowl of curry, “would you like us to go pick up Iris and bring her back here? Cape Caem isn’t terribly far…”

Gladio’s immediate reaction was to give into the tears pooling in his eyes. He couldn’t imagine Iris seeing her big brother like this. He wanted to see Iris, but he didn’t want Iris to see her big brother falling apart.

“No,” he forced out, voice raw and watery, “she’s been so strong.  I have to be strong for her, too.”

Ignis deflated a bit, setting down his own bowl of curry. What was the beast that had wrapped itself around their shield’s heart and brain and convinced him that he was weak and worthless? Ignis wanted nothing more than to find it and pierce its heart, to drag it out into the open and behead it, but life was not that simple.

“Would it help if I promised you that she wouldn’t judge you? Grieving is healthy, Gladio, and having someone to grieve with could help with the pain,” he tried, but Gladio was not convinced.

“I have you guys,” he murmured, barely more than a whisper, squeezing his eyes shut against the onslaught of tears.

“We’re right here,” Noctis said, rubbing Gladio’s arm as he tried to will the tears away, “and we’re not going anywhere.”

Ignis didn’t bring it up again. Perhaps another time, after they’d weathered this storm.   

 

* * *

 

Some other day he sat around the fire with the guys and almost felt normal for a moment. Except it was 75 degrees even though the sun was down and he was wearing a hoodie, sweatpants and a thick pair of socks. Anything that wasn’t insular, protective clothing still felt too vulnerable, but at least he was getting closer to eating full meals again.

He looked out upon the big, wide world beyond the haven while Noctis rambled about the fishing trip he and Prompto went on that day to supply them with dinner. He tried to recall the feelings of road tripping and doing hunts as a team, but in his mind he couldn’t even get past climbing into the Regalia. It used to be familiar—it was their  _life_ —but now it seemed impossible. Just stepping beyond the glowing rock of the haven…it was an effort beyond measure. He didn’t want to send himself into another episode, so he stopped thinking about it all together.

On day number Gladio-never-bothered-counting-in-the-first-place, he felt the long-forgotten spark of motivation rise within him. It occurred to him the night before that he ought to tell his partners  _why_  he was acting this way. His memory between when they’d arrived at the haven and the morning he completely shut down was a little fuzzy, but he was fairly sure he hadn’t given the three of them any other reasoning that wasn’t  _I’m suffering and I can’t communicate why._

It also occurred to him how scared he’d be if Noctis ever fell into such a state. Or Prompto. Or Ignis. He’d probably be climbing the Rock of Ravatogh to find the solution, much less catering to their every need as they lay motionless in the tent for a week. Right, so, he had to tell them.

Once again he retreated back to the safest place he could come up with—the tent. It was the middle of the day and he asked Noctis to take his hand and come back to the tent with him, and for Prom and Ignis to follow.

It was painful and his communication was still limited, at best, but the warmth of Noctis’ hand in his spurred him on to put words together as best he could and try to get his message across.

“I’m…sorry. That I couldn’t find the words to tell you this earlier,” he said, because that sounded like as good a place as any to start, “I woke up that day and I felt like…nothing. Like I was worth nothing. Like I couldn’t protect any of you, even though that’s the only job I have to do.”

His three partners were silent. He didn’t notice the tears gathering in Prompto’s eyes.

“So I just…” he gestured with his hands like he was dropping some great weight, “I just couldn’t go on anymore. I shut down, because I had nowhere left to go.”

He hoped the three weren’t expecting any more, because he wasn’t sure he  _had_ anything more to give. Maybe some other time, after he’d processed all his feelings—or lack thereof—from the past few days, but not today.

Regardless, he felt a remarkable difference in the weight in his chest. It no longer felt like an anvil was sitting in the space between his heart and his stomach, no longer was there iron in his lungs stealing his breath. There was no way he could have admitted this any sooner, he knew, but he wished he could jump back in time a few days and reassure himself that things weren’t as hard as they seemed.

The Gladio from three days ago still wouldn’t have believed it, he reasoned, but the sentiment was nice.

Whatever he expected from his partner’s reactions it definitely wasn’t for Prompto to start weeping, thick, round tears rolling down his cheeks as he tried to keep silent. Gladio’s heart started pounding, pulse skyrocketing as he scrambled to dig out an appropriate reaction to Prompto’s tears among his jumbled emotions.

“P-prom, I’m sorry—”

“No, no, it’s okay,” Prompto reassured, forcing himself to smile as he wiped the tears away, “You don’t have to apologize, I’m just so  _relieved_ ,” a short sob slipped past his lips, but he recomposed himself quickly, “I just…I just don’t want you to feel that way, Glads. I don’t want you to feel useless, cause you aren’t.” He sniffled, still unable to fight the instinct to cry. When words failed him he leaned forward and wrapped his arms snug around Gladio’s neck, trying to imitate the comfort they’d had days before.

“I’ve just…” Prompto started, pulling away a few long moments later, “I know what it feels like, to feel worthless or useless, but in the past, when I’ve been low like that,  _you_  were the one to help me out of it. A-and, so I, I never want you to feel that way, that you’re useless, because you’re  _not_ because you mean so much to  _me_  and, oh,  _Gladio,”_ he took Gladio’s hands and buried his face in them, “you mean so much to me, you can’t even imagine.”

They held each other and Prompto cried for a few more minutes, but in the meantime Gladio looked to his other two partners for reactions.

Ignis looked infinitely relieved that he had just a smidgen of  _understanding_  of what was troubling Gladio so deeply. The relief and love in his expression made every difficult word of his confession worth it.

Noctis, like himself, was not skilled at expressing his emotions in words, so that night he pulled Gladio just a little bit closer, comforting and hugging him until he drifted off, their hands still intertwined.

The four remained at the haven for yet another few days as Gladio focused on functioning as part of the group again. On their final morning Gladio changed into clothes more suited for adventuring before they departed.

**Author's Note:**

> Gladio deserves all the love.
> 
> Let me know what you think!
> 
> [my tumblr](http://ferix-writes.tumblr.com/)


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